


it takes a bit more

by Sporks



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bad Jokes, Boys Kissing, Drug Use, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build, Zayn is confused, boys with secrets ooooh, but just once its ok, harry is weird, i guess?, i'm not good at angst, like SLOOOW BUILD, mentions of abuse, mentions of bullying, no sex IM SORRY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 02:49:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2175312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sporks/pseuds/Sporks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Zayn’s brain fries the more the kid keeps talking. Zayn can hear his brain cells sizzling away. 'I’m sorry, I’m lost. You-um. I—' Zayn prides himself in coming up with things to say in a short amount of time, but this is just—he’s never met someone like this before. 'I don’t even know what the hell your name is,' is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. It may sound a bit harsh, but from what he’s gathered so far, this kid doesn’t even know the definition of the word.</p><p>The boy slaps a sweater covered hand over his mouth and makes some unidentifiable squeak. 'Oh my gosh! You’re completely right!' He slaps the hand covering his mouth to his forehead then. 'Where are my manners? You probably think I’m crazy. My name is Harry. Harry Styles. My birthday is the first of February, and I am a fan of almond milk.'”</p><p>An AU where Zayn doesn't know what to say a lot and Harry has empty eyes, terrible jokes, and a chinchilla named Robert.</p><p>(This sounds awful but like, it's not that bad.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	it takes a bit more

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what to say other than I hope you like chinchillas.
> 
> Title from "You" by The 1975.

Zayn needs to escape sometimes.

 

Because sometimes, it all becomes too much. The silence here is so different than the silence that builds up in his house.

 

He wishes someone would say _something_. But he’s almost glad they don’t, or else he would probably break down more than he does now. And he thinks he’s been doing a pretty good job.

 

He leaves the house around one every night. He thinks it should be harder than it is, to sneak out of his house. His mum is a light sleeper, constantly worrying. Zayn doesn’t think she’s gotten a full nights sleep in months. Maybe she hears him leave every night, just never mentions it. Zayn doesn’t know why she wouldn’t. It’d give them something to talk about at least, besides the same broken “How was school today?” Zayn knows that question holds as much bullshit as his mum’s smile when she puts the girls to bed and says good night.

 

Zayn slips on his favorite boots—his only boots—and a grey hoodie that he stole from a kid at school. It was… Garrett’s maybe? Zayn forgot a long time ago.

 

He walks out the door, the door creaking as he closes it. Not really caring anymore whether someone will hear him or not. The air smacks him in the face as soon as his damaged boot steps onto the cement. He pulls his hood up out of habit. Something about having it up makes him feel like no one can see him, like if someone would walk pass him they’d just see some grey cloud instead of a boy. Like he’s just matter floating around the brisk air. The thought is somewhat comforting.

 

Zayn’s house is the smallest one on the street. It’s in the part of town that everyone tries to avoid driving through as much as possible. It’s run down, the white paint chipping ever since Zayn has been born. The grass is dry and neglected. The only nice thing about it is the fact that it’s walking distance from his school and the only park on Zayn’s side of town.

 

The park isn’t even a park, really. It’s a giant span of grass with a rusty swing set plopped right in the middle. Zayn doesn’t think anybody has touched that swing set since the eighties. Probably too worried they would sit on it and tear it right off its hinges.

 

Zayn stuffs his hands in his pockets and drags his feet to his favorite spot to sit. It’s the bathroom building the city decided to add to the park to make it… more presentable, maybe? More approachable? Because everyone loves seeing a bathroom in the middle of a park.

 

He sits down heavily, back against the wall, one leg down and one leg bent. He pulls out a fag that was lodged deep within his pocket and brushes off some of the lint. He’s only got two left. Damn it. He’s going to need to bribe Zach again. Zayn internally groans because he knows doing his homework for a pack of smokes every week isn’t going to appeal to Zach for much longer.

 

Zayn looks up at the black sky. A bonus to the park, besides the absolute glorious sound of nothing, is the amount of stars that litter the darkness every time he looks up. It’s impossible to see them at night, in the city. Too many lights. Out in the park it’s nice. It’s like the stars gift the park their presence as if to say, “Good job. At least someone wants to see us.” It makes Zayn feel good, like he’s doing someone a favor, even if it is just a bunch of stars that are trillions of light years away from him. Zayn once read that when a shooting star is visible to the human eye, it’s already been dead for a few million years. _How comforting,_ Zayn thinks.

 

He closes his eyes and takes in the soft noise around him. He can hear a cricket, but far away enough that it’s not obnoxious. He hears the subtle clash of wind against the oak trees around him. He takes a drag from his cigarette and let’s the sky swallow him whole; _inhale, exhale, deeper inhale, deeper exhale._

 

“Oh, hi.”

 

Zayn’s eyes snap open. _What the fuck?_ He looks around so quickly he wouldn’t be surprised if he gets whiplash. He stops when he spots a boy. How the fuck did he not hear him walking over here?

 

The boy’s eyes widen. “Oh, jeez. I’m sorry. Did I scare you? Gosh, I’m always doing that. I don’t mean to do it, I swear.”

 

Zayn’s eyes haven’t relaxed at all. He takes in the boys appearance. At least he’s not some balding old fuck coming over to him with promises of candy and puppies in his van. This kid is actually the complete opposite. He’s tall, for one. Lanky, with long, clumsy looking legs suffocated in dark skinny jeans with fucking holes in both knees, covered up by black duct tape as some cheap solution. He’s pigeon-toed, wearing brown boots that look like they’ve seen better days. (Zayn can relate to that one, at least.) He’s wearing an oversized lilac sweater that Zayn is almost positive he’s seen his nan wear, and he’s got a head of unruly, curly brown hair that looks like it hasn’t been brushed in months. It’s all held back by a scarf thing with skulls on it. Well. Zayn doesn’t know whether to laugh or back away slowly and find another spot to wallow in.

 

When Zayn’s heartbeat has returned to normal, he realizes he hasn’t said anything back to this awkward boy in front of him.

 

“Um, it’s, uh. It’s cool, man,” _But is it really?_ “You just caught me off guard, is all. Not used to anyone being out here this late.” Zayn starts rubbing his palms up and down his thighs. He’s never been really good with meeting new people. Especially one on one with nobody around. What is he even suppose to _say?_

 

Harry waves a hand around, flimsily, dismissing what Zayn just said. “Oh, yeah, no, I totally get it. I’m actually out here all the time. Surprised I haven’t seen you before.”

 

Has he really? How has Zayn not noticed?

 

The guy continues as if Zayn just gave him something to respond to. “Yeah I just decided to take a walk around, you know? Check out the scenery and what not. Didn’t expect to see a boy in a hoodie sitting by the bathroom. Crazy world.” He shakes his head slowly, as if he’s baffled, like he just read something disappointing in the newspaper. He decides to take a seat next to Zayn, body turned towards him, cross legged. Zayn doesn’t know what to say. It turns out he doesn’t _need_ to say anything because the kid continues talking, pausing as if collecting his thoughts quickly and then spewing it all out like word vomit. “You see, I usually walk around with Robert, but sometimes he gets a little lazy. I don’t know _why,_ it’s not like he does anything all day. You’d think he would enjoy the exercise, being cooped up in his cage all day-”

Zayn’s brain fries the more the kid keeps talking. Zayn can hear his brain cells sizzling away. “I’m sorry, I’m lost. You-um. I—” Zayn prides himself in coming up with things to say in a short amount of time, but this is just—he’s never met someone like this before. “I don’t even know what the hell your name is,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. It may sound a bit harsh, but from what he’s gathered so far, this kid doesn’t even know the definition of the word.

 

The boy slaps a sweater covered hand over his mouth and makes some unidentifiable squeak. “Oh my gosh! You’re completely right!” He slaps the hand covering his mouth to his forehead then. “Where are my manners? You probably think I’m crazy. My name is Harry. Harry Styles, my birthday is the first of February, and I am a fan of almond milk.” He says it all with a wide grin, like he’s a kid that just told someone everything cool he got for Christmas.

 

Zayn sits there for a moment and just blinks at him. “Harry… Styles.” He repeats slowly, eyes slightly narrowed.

 

“The one and only!” He grins brightly, but then leans forward and whispers, “But maybe not. You never know.”

 

“Right…” Zayn mumbles, leaning back.

 

“You know, if you don’t want to tell me your name, I could always give you one. Like…” He hums for a moment, tapping his long, ring covered finger on his chin, before lighting up, as if an actual lightbulb popped above his head. “Alberto? That sounds a bit mysterious, does it not? Or maybe something smooth and sophisticated, like Sandra. Or how about—”

 

“It’s Zayn. My name is Zayn. No need for a made up one.” He’s exhausted listening to Harry talk.

 

Harry beams. “That’s brilliant! I’m so glad your parents named you that. Way cooler than Alberto or Sandra.” Zayn doesn’t even bother reminding Harry that Sandra is a girl’s name.

 

“Ehm, thanks, I guess.”

 

Zayn doesn’t think this Harry guy ever stops smiling. “Yeah, no problem! So like I was saying before about Robert, he’s not the most energetic one, that Robert. I try to give him baths regularly, you know? I’ve been testing out different soaps lately, trying to get a grasp on what’s best for him. They say it’s good to massage organic soap deep within—”

 

Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose before interrupting Harry’s speech. “Harry, um, sorry for interrupting but like. What the fuck are you going on about?”

 

Harry’s eyes go wide for a moment, but he’s still smiling. “Wow, you curse a lot. Robert is my chinchilla. Did I not make that clear? I found him in a box behind McDonald’s about three year ago. A _box,_ can you believe that? Felt so sorry for him that I just had to take him home.” He’s practically shaking with pride.

 

A chinchilla.

 

“That’s quite nice of you, Harry. Didn’t your parents mind that you brought a chinchilla into your house?” Zayn feels like he’s talking to a ten year old. Harry makes Zayn more uneasy the more he talks to him, he’s got to know if the guy at least has parents.

 

If Zayn wasn’t watching Harry intently, he would have missed the small flinch that overcame his features, and the way his mouth twitched down. It was over so fast it was almost unnoticeable. And just like that, the bright smile is back.

 

“Yeah, well. My mum wasn’t too thrilled but she’s okay with ol’ Rob now I would say. She stopped locking him in my closet at least,” he says with a shrug and a smile.

 

Zayn honestly can’t tell if he’s fucking with him or not. He has a sick feeling boiling in the pit of his stomach that Harry is nothing but genuine.

 

“Yeah, that’s… Great news.” Zayn has got to wrap this conversation up. He pats his knees before he begins to stand up. “Well, Harry, as much as I enjoyed talking to you, I’m a bit tired. It’s—” _Three-thirty??_ “It’s really late. Don’t want my parents to realize I’m gone.” Zayn gives him a smile before standing up fully.

 

Harry’s smile does that thing again, where it falters, barely noticeable, and then returns back to normal. “Oh yeah, I understand. I should head back soon, too. Robert’s probably missing me. Hates when I leave him alone with my mum,” he says, as if Zayn should relate to that information somehow.

 

“Yeah,” Zayn supplies lamely. “Nice meeting you Harry.” He waves.

 

Harry waves back enthusiastically. “See you tomorrow, Zayn!”

 

Zayn doesn’t respond.

 

~

 

The next night Zayn leaves the house again. Same time. Same routine. Zayn would think that he’d get bored of the same thing every night but he loves it. Makes him feel safe, in a way. Like the only way it can change is if he lets it.

 

He does a quick look around to see if Harry is there lurking about. He’s relieved to see no sign of the guy. Maybe he decided to stay at home with his chinchilla. Honestly, who would keep a chinchilla for a pet? Tonight Zayn just wants to sit in his spot and shut off his thoughts like he’s been doing every night without any interruptions. He pulls out a fag and lights it. The numbing harsh feel of the smoke in his lungs distracting his senses before he exhales.

 

Ah, routine.

 

“Did you know, that even though the constellation Ursa Major is said to look like a bear, it is _actually_ supposed to be interpreted as an aardvark?”

 

Zayn’s eyes shoot open, his heart pounding against his chest. He immediately spots Harry standing in front of him, looking up at the stars with his hands behind his back.

 

“Fuck, Harry. Don’t do that. You’re going to give me a fucking heart attack.”

 

Harry looks down at Zayn with a smile. “Oh! Oh I’m sorry, Zayn. I thought you knew I was here. Sorry, I won’t do that again.” He sits next to Zayn and makes himself comfortable, back pressed up against the wall of the bathroom and legs stretched out in front of him.

 

“How was I suppose to know you were here? My eyes were closed.” His voice is bitter, and Harry seems put off.

 

Harry frowns, like actually frowns, at Zayn. “Are you mad at me?” He sounds so upset about it. The thought that Zayn would be mad at him.

 

Zayn can’t find it in himself to continue being bitter at Harry. He sighs. “No, I’m not mad at you. I haven’t known you long enough to be mad at you over something like that. Just maybe next time give me a warning when you’re going to greet me with another random fact.” He’s almost positive that the information Harry told him about Ursa Major isn’t true. At all.

 

Harry nods rapidly, like that will help him remember. “No, yeah, yeah. You got it, Zayn.”

 

Dammit. Zayn just realized he practically confirmed that him and Harry would be running into each other at one in the morning more often. Zayn doesn’t really want to make this a thing. Harry is too unpredictable and Zayn doesn’t do well with unpredictable. And he doesn’t particularly like talking to people. He has Liam. Liam and Louis. That’s all he needs.

 

Harry rests his head on the wall and looks up at the stars with a soft smile. He’s wearing a beanie today. His unbrushed curls are hidden underneath it, only flooding out from the sides. He has on another sweater, except this one is dark grey. Zayn notices that he’s doing that thing again, where his sweater sleeves swallow his hands whole. He wonders if Harry’s hands are just cold or he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

 

They’re quiet for a moment, and it’s almost awkward until Harry sighs, as if they’ve just been talking about some fond memories together. “I was gonna bring Robert today, he needs the exercise. Even got his autumn coat ready and everything. But the bugger was asleep by the time I went to get him ready. Maybe tomorrow, then.”

 

Zayn almost feels like Harry is partially just talking to himself. It’s a weird line between Harry acknowledging that Zayn’s there and speaking to him, and Harry just keeping tabs on what’s been going on verbally to himself. Zayn has no idea if he should respond or not, because he feels like if he does then he’ll be interrupting Harry’s thoughts.

 

Zayn drops that thought as soon as Harry turns to look up at him.

 

“You draw.”

 

Even when Zayn thinks Harry can’t catch him any more off guard, he’s proved him wrong.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Harry roles his eyes, still smiling. “You draw. I see your drawings in the art room. They’re very nice.”

 

Although the comment was completely out of the blue, Zayn can’t help but feel warmth leak through his stomach at the compliment. Zayn is a humble person, but he admits it feels really good when someone acknowledges and appreciates something he’s worked hard on. His parents try to act as if they care about his artwork, but Zayn knows better than to believe it.

 

“Thanks, Harry. I didn’t know you took art. I’ve never seen you in there before.” Come to think of it, Zayn doesn’t remember ever seeing Harry at school. Is he really that oblivious?

 

Harry snorts. “Well I don’t take the class, silly. I just go in there at lunch sometimes to look at the art, and I always see yours. But I gotta say though, your art lacks a lot of color, buddy.”

 

Zayn’s smile falls. So, Harry’s a bit passive aggressive. Okay. Zayn’s always liked someone that can be blunt with him.

 

“Um. I guess so. But that’s like, I—that’s how I like it, I guess?” There he goes again, at a loss for words like last time. Zayn hates it when he can’t take control of his own sentences. It makes him uncomfortable.

 

“Well I can see that,” he says, but it’s not laced with sarcasm like how someone else would say it, it’s more like amusement and interest. “You should try using some color. You know what’s a lovely color? Aubergine. It’s also a delicious vegetable. Only if it’s cooked right, though. Don’t eat a raw aubergine, I’ve made that mistake once already.”

 

Zayn just looks at Harry. He blinks a few times. Opens his mouth then closes it again. “Right,” he says dumbly, like Harry just explained quantum physics to him in the span of a minute.

 

“I would love to see some of your other work some time,” Harry says enthusiastically, and it almost sounds like a demand, not formed as a question at all. Zayn would be annoyed if he wasn’t just the slightest bit flattered.

 

“Um. I guess you could see them if you want to. I could bring a few—”

 

“You know,” Harry interrupts. “You say ‘I guess’ a lot. Why are you never _sure_ of anything you say? I mean, that would make me sad—to add ‘I guess’ to everything I respond to. It’s got to at least make you a little bit sad.”

 

Zayn frowns. He’s never thought about it like that.

 

Before Zayn can respond, Harry adds on. “And also, you frown a lot. Why do you frown so much? Don’t you have things in your life that you want to smile about?”

 

Where the fuck is this deep shit spewing from? Zayn can’t really be that transparent.

 

Harry’s looking at him, like he _feels bad_ for Zayn. If there’s one thing Zayn hates more than anything, it’s fucking pity.

 

Words finally escape Zayn’s throat.

 

“Look, Harry. You can talk to me like we’ve known each other for years, but in reality, you don’t know anything about me. My life isn’t exactly perfect right now. Sorry I can’t have a cheesy grin plastered on my face all the time like you.”

 

Harry’s face goes unsettlingly blank as he looks out at the park.

 

“Well, I am very much aware that life isn’t perfect, Zayn. But just remember, that your life doesn’t characterize you as a person. Anyone can be happy, you know. I think someday you’ll realize that,” Harry says with a quiet nod, each word oozing out slowly, as if it was drenched in molasses. Zayn’s stomach feels weird. He doesn’t know what to say, as usual around Harry.

 

And as if he didn’t just metaphorically punch Zayn in the gut, he yawns loudly and carries on. “Wow, I’m knackered,” he says with a finalizing clap of his hands. It shakes Zayn out of his weird stoop thing he stumbled deep into the last couple of minutes. “I think I’m gonna get back, see if Rob is sleeping soundly. Lovely talking with you, Zayn. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

 

He stands up and pats Zayn on the head twice before walking off.

 

Zayn has to force his body to start moving again and head back home.

 

When he gets in bed he just lays there for a while, looking up at the ceiling at the glow-in-the-dark stars he’s had stuck up there since he was nine. He remembers him and his dad had tried so hard to set up the stars so they were in the shape of constellations.

 

 _“Did you know, that even though the constellation Ursa Major is said to look like a bear, it is_ actually _supposed to be interpreted as an aardvark?”_

 

Bullshit.

 

_“Anyone can be happy, you know. I think someday you’ll realize that.”_

 

Bullshit.

 

Harry thinks he’s fucking Buddha.

 

~

 

Zayn barely wakes up on time the next morning.

 

He takes a quick shower— _“We need to conserve water as much as possible in this household, Zayn”_ —and decides to skip breakfast. His sisters need it more anyway, they’re growing girls. He’s never really been fond of breakfast, anyway.

  
  
  


“Hey, where the hell’ve you been, man? We’ve been trying to get a hold of you all weekend, I was about to rip your door right off its hinges and kidnap you,” Louis says.

 

Louis. Always the exaggerator.

 

“He’s not kidding either. It’s a good thing I stopped him from doing it,” Liam says with a wink and a warm smile.

 

Liam and Louis are so different from each other. Zayn never understands how their friendship works.

 

Zayn had met Liam in the library in eighth grade when he had gotten in trouble for stealing meals from the cafeteria and was told to help the librarian organize book shelves. Zayn had been reserved, kids too scared to go up and talk to him. It’s not like Zayn cared, though. He had better things to do than worry about entertaining mates. Liam, shy, innocent little Liam, had gone up to Zayn timidly and asked if the library held any comic books. It had sparked Zayn’s interest and they talked for hours about their favorite comics and super heroes. They’ve been best friends ever since.

 

Meeting Louis was different. Zayn had met Louis at the very first high school party he had gone to in his freshman year. Zayn was still reserved, only really ever talking to Liam, but parties weren’t really Liam’s scene. Zayn had gone straight to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. Before he could even reach the can to his lips someone had snatched the beer from his hand. Zayn’s fists clenched before he turned to the person who took his beer.

 

_“Hey, man, who the fuck do you—”_

_“Mate. Mate. A beer?  Come on. Start off with a shot of tequila!”_

_Zayn had tried hard not to punch the guy in the face. He cooled down, reminding himself that this guy was obviously shitfaced._

_“I’m Louis by the way,” he had said, stuffing a shot of tequila in Zayn hand._

_Zayn took the shot, wincing at the burn in his chest as it went down. “Zayn.”_

_“Well, Zayn. You have sick hair. You smoke?”_

 

Louis and Zayn had talked all night.

 

The next week at school Louis never left Zayn alone, and Zayn had ended up caring less and less. Louis has been his partner in crime ever since.

 

Liam was shy around Louis at first. Loud, sarcastic boys like Louis made him uncomfortable. He made excuses whenever Zayn would ask if he wanted to hang out with him and Louis. Liam finally opened up after Louis had introduced him to his first beer, and ever since then they’ve been inseparable.

 

“Anyway, what was up? You missed out on a sick party,” Louis says, with a light punch on Zayn’s shoulder.

 

“I was sick.” It’s an easy lie. Zayn was just in one of his moods where he doesn’t want to go to a loud party and get wasted. Sometimes—which is more often than not—Zayn just lays in his room and draws. Sometimes he draws people, sometimes he draws the same tree outside his window five times in a row, and sometimes he draws the first thing that pops into his head.

 

Zayn’s parents used to be so supportive of his artwork when he was younger. Well, until they couldn’t afford his lessons anymore. Zayn was devastated, those lessons were the only thing he had to look forward to every Friday. He had locked himself in his room for a solid week after his parents told him.

 

That was not one of his better moments.

 

They drop the subject and decide to head to class. Liam has chemistry while Louis and Zayn have English.

 

Zayn and Louis are seated in the back where no one really notices them or bothers them. He sits and lays his head on the desk, and before his teacher even starts the lecture, he’s passed out.

  
  
  


He wakes up disoriented, something poking at his cheek.

 

He looks up, eyes stinging at the bright lights illuminating the classroom.

 

Classroom. Oh.

 

“Mate, you fell asleep again. You missed the whole exciting lecture on Hamlet,” Louis says smirking down at Zayn who still has his head down.

 

“Fuck,” he mumbles into his arm.

 

“Don’t worry, Warner didn’t even see you, you know he’s blind as a bat,” Louis says, patting Zayn on the back and shaking his shoulders. “Get up man, I don’t necessarily feel like being in here longer than I need to.”

 

Zayn looks up finally and notices that everyone is still filing out of the classroom. He’s grateful he didn’t even get to opening his backpack.

 

When they leave the classroom Louis puts an arm around Zayn’s shoulders. “You need to get more sleep, Malik.”

 

“I know, I know.” They’re always telling him this, as if Zayn doesn’t know he only sleeps three or four hours a night. It all straightens out in the end though because he takes naps when he gets home. Right? Zayn should probably look into that but his internet at home is too shitty to even bother.

  
  
  


Zayn hardly remembers his day. He remembers lunch, and Liam nagging him about not sleeping enough, he remembers not eating, except for the unwanted apple Louis gave him from his lunch, and he remembers falling asleep in math and waking up to his teacher smacking a ruler down on his desk.

 

And he remembers a tall, green eyed boy walking past him in a sea of people in the hallway. He remembers Harry and him making eye contact briefly and Harry waving timidly yet so enthusiastic, like he was just waiting for the moment where him and Zayn would finally see each other at school.

 

Zayn didn’t wave back.

  
  
  


He walks home, goes to his room, takes his nap, does his homework, and eats dinner.

 

Routine, routine.

  
  
  


It’s one in the morning again and Zayn is laying in bed, looking up at his artificial stars.

 

Does he really want to go to the park tonight? He’s got his florescent stars above him right there, what more could he want?

 

 _Someone new who actually wants to talk to you,_ his conscious spits in the back of his mind.

 

That’s not true. Zayn’s never met anyone like Harry before, and it makes him uncomfortable. He’s too friendly, too easygoing, too _smiley_. He doesn’t know what to think of Harry besides that he’s just _strange_.

 

Zayn just gets nervous around new people. He was even shaking with nerves when he had met his distant cousins for the first time three years ago. He doesn’t know how he’s managed having best friends like Liam and Louis.

 

Should he go to the park? He’s not tired anymore, after his nap.

 

He gets out of bed, puts on his shoes, and closes the front door quietly behind him.

 

When he gets to the bathroom at the park, Harry is already sitting against the wall. He’s looking at the stars intently before he turns to look at Zayn with his overly bright green eyes.

 

“Oh hey, Z,” he says with a warm smile and a peace sign. A _peace sign_. He would have thought that was the gayest thing he’s ever seen if it didn’t seem so utterly Harry.

 

And did he just call him Z? No one calls him Z except for Louis. And Louis just calls him that to spite him.

 

“Hey,” he greets distractedly. “Um, you’re calling me Z now? Does this mean I have to call you H or something?” He asks, not necessarily joking, but not completely serious either.

 

Harry giggles. “Dunno, you just seem like a Z.”

 

Zayn sighs and takes a seat next to him.

 

There’s a comfortable minute of silence as Zayn looks up at the stars and Harry watches an ant move on the cement.

 

“I waved to you today, in the hallway.”

 

Zayn looks down at Harry, whose attention is still on the ant. Zayn doesn’t know whether to respond to that or if it was a statement.

 

“Yeah, I—”

 

“You didn’t wave back.” He doesn’t sound angry, not at all. It sounds like he’s just… repeating his observation.

 

“Um, I. S-sorry,” he tries. “I was walking, you know, and like—”

 

“What? Zayn why are you being like that? It’s okay. You had class to get to and it’s not like we’ve ever seen each other at school before either.” He says it so lightly, like he doesn’t need Zayn’s excuse because he understands. There’s no undertone of sarcasm or anger in his voice at all. It absolutely baffles Zayn.

 

“I, uh. I promise I’ll wave to you next time,” Zayn says for lack of a better reply.

 

Harry just smiles and looks up at the stars. “That would be nice, Z.”

 

Zayn finds himself frowning and scrounging his pocket for a lighter and cigarette.

 

They’re silent for another moment before the question Zayn’s been dying to know reaches the surface and spurts out before he can stop it. “Do you have any friends?” He internally groans and winces at the way he worded his question. Shit, that sounds so fucking rude.

 

Harry doesn’t look offended or like he wants to reply with a snarky comment. He just smiles, gaze still aimed at the stars. “I have one best friend. His name is Niall. He’s the greatest person I know, Z.”

 

Zayn feels something like warmth permeate into his chest for a moment at Harry’s words. He sounds so genuinely fond. Zayn doesn’t ask him if he has anymore friends.

 

“Niall,” he says slowly, testing the name out on his tongue. He’s never heard a name like that before. “Does he go to—?”

 

“Our school? Oh, yeah. See, Niall and I have been best buddies ever since we were babies. Well, that’s what my mum always says. I mean, I wouldn’t know because I can’t remember much from when I was a baby, personally.” His brows scrunch as if he’s temporarily frustrated. Zayn scoffs lightly.

 

“He’s great. He has a great laugh, too.”

 

“That’s good,” is all he thinks to reply with.

 

“Who are your friends, Z?” He asks sounding genuinely interested.

 

“Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson. Dunno if you know them. They’re the only people I hang out with, really.” He takes a drag from his cigarette and holds it in longer than usual.

 

Harry’s quiet for a second. “That’s nice, Zayn,” he says quietly. Zayn looks over at Harry who’s looking out at the park with a deep look on his face. Zayn can practically smell his thoughts running through his head. Zayn doesn’t want to ask what he’s thinking about because he thinks the list never ends. He’s not ready to hear that list.

 

“Do you want to hear a joke? I have some good ones,” Harry says after five long minutes of silence.

 

“Um, okay.”

 

“What did the farmer say when he lost his tractor?”

 

“Uh, what?”

 

He lowers his voice and attempts a southern accent. “‘Where’s my tractor?’” He finishes and immediately breaks into a fit of laughter. He starts laughing so hard he’s got tears in his eyes.

 

Zayn just looks at him, trying so hard to control the smile creeping up on his face. As much as Harry is always smiling, Zayn never really gets to hear him _laugh_. It’s light and full of something special. “Wasn’t that funny?” Harry says before laughing more.

 

“Um, yeah, Harry, that was a good one.” He doesn’t want to ruin it for Harry by telling him that that joke wasn’t even a joke. Instead he just closes his eyes and leans back, listening to Harry’s laughter slowly die down.

 

~

 

A week after their first time meeting, Harry brings Robert.

 

“Hey, Z! Look who wanted to meet you!” Harry says excitedly. He’s sitting against the wall when Zayn gets there, except he’s got something furry and grey pressed against his sweater.

 

“Ah, this must be Robert.”

 

“Yeah, he’s been dying to meet you, haven’t you, Rob?” He holds Robert in front of his face before turning him towards Zayn who’s taken a seat next to Harry. Harry takes the chinchilla’s arm and moves it side to side, as if he’s waving.

 

As weird as this is, he’s rather endeared with how Harry speaks about his pet.

 

“This punk hasn’t been up for coming with me the past week, but I made sure to get him extra celery at the market today so he’s been in a pretty good mood,” Harry continues, stroking Robert’s soft fur. Zayn kind of wants to touch it.

 

“Go ahead and pet him,” Harry says as if he can read Zayn’s thoughts.

 

Zayn leans back, gently petting the chinchilla’s fur while listening to Harry tell him the cons of space travel.

 

~

  
  


It’s become something like an unspoken routine. Going to that same spot at the park every night at one. Zayn has even come with Harry to the twenty-four hour market to pick up celery and lettuce for Robert. Sometimes Harry will walk Zayn home, but Zayn has never invited him in. It should be awkward when Zayn just says good night to Harry and walks inside without asking if he wants to come in, but Zayn thinks that somehow Harry understands.

 

Harry is always the first one to start a conversation. He asks the dumbest shit, too. _“Zayn, if you could be a chimpanzee for forty-eight hours, what would you do?”_ On occasion he’ll ask Zayn about his family, but nothing too deep. Mostly questions about his sisters and if his dad knows any ship captains.

 

Zayn realizes he knows next to nothing about Harry’s life.

 

Sure Harry has told him things like his favorite tropical fruit (guava) and preferred percentage of cacao in his dark chocolate (eighteen percent). But Harry never talks about his family.

 

Zayn’s not one to pry, is the thing. He knows how to respect other’s privacy. But there’s something about Harry that is so _mysterious_. He doesn’t know how old he is, what he does in his spare time, what his favorite dish is that his mum makes for dinner. It’s these kind of things that pop into his head at the most random and unnecessary times. He’ll be taking a test in math and think, ‘I wonder if Harry is any good at math, and if he’s not I wonder if he has a sibling that helps him.’ It’s frustrating because he doesn’t mean for these things to spring up in his mind out of the blue, but he can’t help it.

 

He decides he’s going to ease his wandering thoughts.

 

~

 

“What’s your family like, Harry?” Zayn asks as nonchalantly as he can, picking dirt from underneath his finger nails as he sits next to Harry.

 

Zayn looks up just in time to see Harry’s expression. His face flickers like before, like a light bulb about to die out.

 

He’s not replying.

 

“Harry?”

 

Zayn can tell Harry was zoning out before he snapped out of it and looked toward Zayn with a disheartening smile. “My family is great.”

 

He doesn’t say anything else.

 

Zayn _really_ hates prying. “I mean, like. That’s it? Do you have any siblings? What are your parents like?” He urges.

 

Harry blinks at Zayn for a moment before replying. “I have a sister. Her name is Gemma. The people that I was conceived by are Anne and Des.” He says it so slowly, like he’s teaching a child.

 

So he has a sister. Alright. Baby steps.

 

“…Conceived by. Okay. So your parents…” He confirms dumbly.

 

Harry looks at him. “Yeah, my parents,” he says smiling. This smile is different though. Off kilter. It makes Zayn a bit sad.

 

“And, um. Do you like your parents, or…?” Jesus, this conversation is not going as he planned. Harry has an incredible way of making situations awkward.

 

“Um. They’re, um. Yeah, yes, I do like my parents.”

 

“What about your sister?”

 

“You’re asking a lot of questions, Zayn.” And if Harry’s emotions showed like any other person, Zayn would think that he was getting annoyed.

 

“Right. Sorry. I-I guess, like, you just know a lot about me and I don’t really know anything about you.” Is he really feeling guilty about asking Harry these questions?

 

Harry smiles at him, a more comfortable smile than before. “Oh, I hardly know you at all, Z. Don’t be daft.”

 

And. Well. He’s right, technically. But that’s not the point.

 

“Don’t worry about me, Zayn. Questions about family are so very trivial. Hardly important.” Harry waves off with a smile, as if it’s all obvious.

 

Trivial. As if knowing what your favorite winter vegetable isn’t trivial. _Right._

 

Harry claps his hands together. “Right. Now on to more important things: would you rather have balls on your chin or tits on your elbows?”

 

~

 

“She had the best ass I’ve ever seen, mate. I’m not even fucking with you. I should have taken a damn picture.”

 

Zayn is pulling out his English book from his locker while Louis goes on about something that Zayn or Liam aren’t particularly interested in.

 

Closing his locker, Zayn turns to Louis and sees Harry walking their direction towards his next class. He’s wearing a blue beanie and an oversized black sweater. He’s still wearing those jeans with the duct tape over the knees. He can’t help but think how average Harry looks, just walking through the hallway with all of the other students. No one ever speaks to Harry, and Zayn doesn’t understand why. Sure the things that come out of his mouth can be deemed as off putting, but it’s not like the kid is ugly or appears unapproachable.

 

Zayn doesn’t realize he’s staring until Harry catches his eye, smiling and waving. He starts to walk towards Zayn to say hello, which is weird because they’ve never spoken during school, until Harry looks at Louis and Liam who are standing in front of Zayn and comes to a halt. His smile falls, his eyes widen, and Zayn doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but Harry looks a shade paler than he did a minute ago. Harry looks back at Zayn and smiles again before walking past them. And if Harry is walking just noticeably quicker than he was before, well, Zayn won’t think about that.

  
  
  
  


The way Harry acted kept running through Zayn’s head in a loop all day. Did Harry feel self-conscious about talking to Zayn somewhere other than the park? He just seemed so excited to see Zayn at school, though. Then he just… Stopped.

  
  
  


Zayn is absentmindedly stroking Robert’s fur as Harry talks and talks and talks.

 

“—but Niall kept trying to get me to believe that dolphins were the kind of mammals to—”

 

“Why didn’t you say hi to me today?” Shit. He didn’t mean to ask so abruptly.

 

Harry stops talking and looks at Zayn with a smile. “I did say hi to you, Zayn. About thirty two minutes ago,” he replies easily.

 

Zayn sighs. “Harry, you know that’s not what I mean. You were walking up to me at school this morning but then you just like, froze up. I don’t get it.” God, does he sound as whiney as he thinks he does?

Harry’s smile falters and his eyebrows furrow. “Well, there’s nothing to _get,_ Z. I just don’t particularly like your friends all that much. That’s it.” He shrugs and cuddles Robert to his chest, smile back on his face.

 

“Why?” Harry closes his eyes and leans his head back. Zayn can hear him breath out deeply through his nose.

 

“No reason,” he says calmly.

 

“No reason? I mean you must not know them at all, then. They’re great, really. Liam is the sweetest guy you’ll ever meet. Smart, too. Louis is a bit dim but he’s hilarious and—”

 

Zayn trails off when he hears Harry hum. “Cool. They sound great,” he mumbles, still smiling.

 

“If you don’t, like, believe me or something I could introduce you and we could all have a few beers at—”

 

“Not really interested.”

 

Zayn frowns. “But why n—”

 

“Your friends like to beat me up, Zayn.”

 

What?

 

There’s a deafening silent pause.

 

“W-what?”

 

“Would you like me to repeat myself? Your friends find a special pleasure in tossing me around like a rag doll. They’re kind enough to not punch me in the face, so I’ll give them that.”

 

Zayn is quiet while he tries to process what Harry is telling him. He can’t be serious. He has to be exaggerating. Zayn would _know._ He—he would know if Liam and Louis were picking on someone new. They always _tell_ him.

 

“I—” he begins, but the words die in his throat. “I don’t know what to say, Harry.” God he’s so fucking lame.

 

Harry chuckles lightly. “I know, Zayn. It’s okay. I’d prefer for you not to worry about it. I’ve gotten used to it now anyway.” He shrugs.

 

Zayn feels a bit sick. “Don’t worry? They’re—h-how can you tell me not to worry when my best friends are beating the shit out of you?”

 

Harry pats Zayn on his thigh as if he’s _comforting him_. “Aw, Z. You’re so sweet. But really, I shouldn’t have told you anyway, so don’t worry about it.”

 

Zayn is at a loss for words again. He looks over at Harry who’s smiling at him. “I don’t—”

 

Harry squeezes Zayn’s thigh before letting go. “You’re a good friend, Zayn.”

 

Five minutes later Harry heads back home with Robert, leaving Zayn to drown in his thoughts.

 

~

 

Zayn doesn’t talk to Liam and Louis about it when he gets to school. He doesn’t talk to them about it at lunch either.

 

It’s a tradition of theirs to go to Louis’ house every Friday after school and get high. Zayn doesn’t really remember how the tradition started but all he knows is that it continues because Louis’ stash never really ends.

 

Louis and Liam are sitting on Louis’ bed, fluidly passing a blunt and playing Grand Theft Auto while Zayn is sitting on Louis’ oversized bean bag chair.

 

“Fucker got in my way! _Move._ ”

 

“Louis, you’re the one driving on the wrong side of the road.”

 

“Fuck off, Liam. I know what I’m doing.”

 

Zayn isn’t really paying attention. His brain has been swimming with thoughts of what Harry told him last night. Harry has to be thinking of someone else. He has to.

 

“Hey, guys?” He tries.

 

“Yeah, Zayn?” Liam replies. Bless Liam and his ability to multitask.

 

“Do you guys know Harry Styles?”

 

Louis scoffs. “Styles? That kids a little faggot.”

 

“I’ve never seen someone so socially awkward,” Liam adds with a laugh.

 

Zayn can feel his insides start to boil.

 

“Do you beat him up?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Louis answers. “He’s always so quiet, too. Like you’d think the kid would say something but it makes it easier to not get caught,” he says with a shrug.

 

Zayn’s fists clench and he stands up, blocking the TV.

 

“Yo, Zayn, you mind movin’?”

 

Zayn pulls the power cord out of the wall. Liam groans.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” Louis says, voice raising.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with _you?”_

 

“What have I done?”

 

Zayn is fuming. Louis doesn’t _get it._

 

“You need to stop beating up Harry. He’s done nothing to you.”

 

Louis laughs sardonically. “What’s gone up your ass, Z?” The nickname makes him cringe. “Like, shit. I didn’t know you were so fucking chummy with fag boy.”

 

Zayn needs to calm down. He really wishes he had a cigarette right now. “Listen to me. He’s not as bad as you think he is. Just stop messing with him and back off. That’s all I’m asking.”

 

“Fine. We won’t touch your boyfriend anymore,” Louis laughs with his hands up in a mock surrender.

 

“He’s not my—”

 

“How do you even know him, bro?” Liam asks. Zayn can tell he’s lost most interest in this conversation.

 

“He, um. He’s in my… art class.”

 

Liam nods and relights the blunt.

 

“We’ll stop messing with him, just get the sand out of your vagina for fuck’s sake,” Louis says with an eye roll.

 

“Thanks,” Zayn murmurs and sits back down on the bean bag chair.

 

“Now if you would be so kind will you _please_ plug my xbox in so Liam and I can resume our game.”

 

~

 

“You said something to them, didn’t you?”

 

Zayn looks over to Harry through the smoke he just blew out in front of him.

 

“What?”

 

“You know what I’m talking about.”

 

Zayn turns away and looks out at the trees blankly, his cheeks heating up.

 

“I, um.”

 

“Instead of kicking me in the stomach after school today, do you know what they did?” The questions rhetorical. “They just, walked by me. And they looked at me, and just _smirked_. They never forget, Zayn. They never go a day without doing something to me. I can’t believe you confronted them about it when I told you not to worry about it.” Harry picks off loose string from his sweater. He sounds _irritated_. Like Zayn didn’t just save him from hundreds of bruises.

 

“I’m—um. I’m sorry?”

 

“I’m a big boy, Zayn. I can handle things myself. I don’t need you to be some babysitter.”

 

This is the most angry he’s seen Harry, and it’s making him want to crawl under a rock. It may get tiring but he would much rather have Harry with that stupid grin on his face talking about different breeds of lobsters than have him angry with Zayn.

 

“Harry, look. I’m sorry I interfered. I just didn’t want to sit back knowing that you’re getting beaten up by my two best friends.” Zayn is frantic for this conversation to be over.

 

Harry sighs. “I know. I’m sorry for getting upset with you. I just like to handle things on my own.”

 

And okay, Zayn can understand that.

 

The only sound surrounding them for a while is the sound of crickets and wind slapping against the tree leaves.

 

Harry finally turns to him. “You want to hear another joke?”

 

~

 

It’s four weeks after they first met when Zayn asks if Harry wants to hang out after school for the first time.

 

School just ended for the day and Zayn finds Harry at his locker. He can’t help but be apprehensive about it. He’s comfortable with Harry of course, but he can’t prevent it when bits and pieces from his conversation with Harry about his family flash through his mind.

 

“Hey, Harry,” he starts slowly. “I was wondering if you wanted to, like, hang out. Right now.”

 

Nice one.

 

Harry closes his locker and blinks at Zayn. He’s got this blank expression on his face as if he forgot how to English works.

 

“Where?”

 

Here goes nothing. “Your house?” His voice lifts, trying to make it sound like a spontaneous suggestion more than anything.

 

Harry blinks again. “My house. Why would you want to go to my house?”

 

Of course he would ask something like that. “Um. Dunno? Like, we never hang out anytime other than at night at the park, so I was thinking we could, like, switch it up?”

 

Harry thinks about it for exactly ten seconds. (Zayn didn’t count or anything.) “Okay.”

 

Zayn’s eyes widen involuntarily. “Okay. Um, do you drive, or…?”

 

“No, I walk home. I don’t live very far away.” He shrugs.

 

Zayn finds himself smiling. “Okay, let’s go then.”

  
  
  


Harry’s house’s exterior is, to say the least, homey looking. It’s not too big and not too small, and half of it is covered in cobblestone. There aren’t any cars in the driveway so Zayn assumes Harry’s parents are at work.

 

Harry unlocks the door wordlessly and they walk in. Zayn can’t quite pinpoint it, but there’s something off. The house’s decor is warm, with pots of flowers all around the window sills, but somehow it feels cold. Zayn notices that there aren’t any pictures of Harry or his family hanging up.

 

“Do you want something to drink? Hot chocolate?”

 

Zayn hasn’t had hot chocolate in ages. “Yeah, sure, thanks.” He offers a smile and leans back on the counter in the kitchen where Harry is preparing their beverages. He doesn’t really know what to do so he just waits, picking lint off of his hoodie.

 

“You’re going to have to leave before seven,” Harry says after he’s finished heating the hot cocoas.

 

“Okay.” Zayn doesn’t bother asking why.

 

Harry leads them upstairs to his bedroom, Zayn’s drink comfortably heating his hands as he wraps his fingers around the mug that says _“You Have Cat to be Kitten Me Right Meow”_. Zayn smiles to himself as he lifts the mug to his lips.

 

Harry’s room is small. It’s also incredibly clean, with a large metal cage in the corner and a Robert inside.

 

“Robbie! Guess who wanted to come over!” Harry immediately goes over to the cage, opens it, and picks Robert up, carrying him over to Harry’s bed. Harry pats the spot next to him and Zayn obliges easily.

 

“I like your room.” His room is seemingly bare, but Zayn notices little details about it that stand out. He’s got an open box near his closet filled with tattered vinyl records, a small desk covered in paper and school work, Christmas lights hanging up strategically above his window, and the only photo he has pinned up anywhere is one of a young looking Harry and a blonde haired boy hanging on his back. Zayn must be staring at it for longer than he realizes because Harry’s spoken up.

 

“That’s me and Niall. The first time either of us had been to the fair. His mum was so excited to take us. I thought Niall was going to piss his pants.” He has a fond smile on his face. It’s the same smile he has whenever he talks about his friend. Zayn wonders if he’s ever going to meet him.

  
  
  


Over the next few hours they talk about everything and nothing. Zayn lays back on Harry’s pillow and can’t help but notice that it smells just like Harry. Like green apples and vanilla. Harry plays host for a little while, showing Zayn Rob’s winter wear and summer wear, along with all of Rob’s toys and accessories and organic shampoos. He shows him how he found special Christmas lights that change color, along with his favorite ugly Christmas sweater.

 

It’s all endearing, but Zayn doesn’t question Harry on why he hasn’t shown him other things, like the rest of his house. Not that it really matters, but Zayn feels like there’s something missing.

 

They’re watching one of Harry’s movies on his laptop, Finding Nemo, when Zayn finds himself falling asleep on Harry’s shoulder.

  
  
  


The sound of a door shutting jolts him awake. Harry launches out of bed and runs his fingers through his hair chaotically. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit shit shit_ —”  

 

“Harry? Harry what’s wrong?”

 

“Zayn. Zayn you were suppose to be out by the time my mum got home.” He’s pacing and it’s stressing Zayn out. He reaches in his pocket to pull out a cigarette but he realizes he’s all out.

 

“Is that a bad thing? I don’t get it, Harry. Please explain, you’re freaking me out.”

 

“It’s, um. It’s fine. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s—”

 

There’s a banging on the other side of Harry’s door all of a sudden. Harry looks like he’s about to cry.

 

The door opens and a woman walks in. The first thing he notices is that it’s scary how much she looks like Harry, Zayn thinks. They have the same face shape, the same hair color, the same mouth. The only difference is that this woman’s mouth is turn downward in a grimace and her eyes are angry.

 

“Harold Edward Styles why wasn’t my—” she stops when she spots Zayn, still sitting on the bed.

 

She looks back at Harry with raised eyebrows. “Harry,” she says in a calm tone, but Zayn can hear the impatience laced in it. “Who’s this boy?”

 

“Zayn,” Harry mumbles, almost inaudibly.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“His name is Zayn,” he says louder.

 

Harry’s mum puts her hands on her hips. “Zayn, hm? Well, Harry, you know you’re not allowed to have friends over unless you ask me first, right?” Zayn cringes internally. It sounds like she’s scolding a child.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry whispers.

 

She turns back to Zayn. “Now, I am very sorry Harry doesn’t know how to listen to rules, Zayn, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

 

Zayn practically falls off the bed as he nods at the woman and stands up. His face is burning as he looks at Harry’s pleading and empty looking eyes.

 

“Uh, see you around, Harry. Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he mutters as he quickly walks downstairs and grabs his backpack, and rushing out the door.

  
  
  


Zayn thinks about Harry and his mum while he does his homework. His mum probably had a bad day at work. It happens to Zayn’s mum all the time. His mum had made him clean the entire kitchen until it was spotless and organize the food in their cupboards when she found a cigarette in Zayn’s jean pocket one time. She had glared at him the entire time.

 

Hopefully Harry’s mum has cooled down and maybe Zayn can explain to her that it was his idea that he went over to their house in the first place.

 

~

 

Harry doesn’t show up to the park that night.

 

Zayn waits.

 

And waits.

 

And waits.

 

Zayn should have known something was wrong right away, considering Harry is usually there before Zayn, and if he’s not then he always comes within a few minutes of Zayn.

 

Zayn’s heart starts to quicken its pace. He can’t think of a single reason why Harry wouldn’t show up. He doesn’t like the feeling that’s sunken deep within his stomach. He doesn’t like not knowing. And Harry doesn’t even have a cell phone either, so it’s not like he can text him. _No, no. That’s too practical for Harry,_ Zayn thinks.

 

Zayn leaves after an hour of waiting for Harry.

 

He goes to sleep that night feeling queasy.

 

~

 

Zayn doesn’t see Harry at school the next day. Granted, Zayn rarely sees Harry at school unless one of them finds the other. Zayn tries not to think about it throughout the day. _Maybe he’s gotten sick,_ he thinks.

  
  
  


When school ends, Harry goes to his locker to take out the books he needs to take home. Before he closes his locker, he feels something poke at his shoulder. When he turns around he sees a scrawny boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. Something about him looks familiar but—

 

“I’m Niall,” he says.

 

Niall. Oh. “So you’re Niall…” Zayn replies in a way that he really hopes doesn’t sound creepy, like when he’s getting introduced to one of his mum’s witch-looking friends and they say, _“Oh, so you’re Zayn.”_

 

Zayn internally winces.

 

Niall chuckles, even though Zayn didn’t say anything funny. “That would be me,” he says, somewhere between enthusiastic and distasteful. “And you’re Zayn, I’m guessing.”

 

“Er, yeah.” He can’t help but feel uncomfortable and awkward around people he doesn’t know. Although he should feel like he knows everything about Niall, from what Harry has told him. But Niall has this look in his eye and this tilt to his mouth that makes Zayn feel less uncomfortable and awkward.

 

“I know this is kind of weird that I’m coming up to you out of nowhere, but I just wanted to talk to you about Harry for a minute,” he says, and his voice gradually starts to carry a thicker tone. “Look, Harry talks about you all the time. He’s seemed to grow fond of you the past month.” Zayn’s mouth turns up into a small smile involuntarily. “I don’t doubt that you’re a good guy, Zayn.” Zayn’s smile falters, because he knows there has to be a _but_ coming. “But,” _There it is._ “Harry’s not exactly tough as nails. He’s a sensitive kid and doesn’t let a lot of people in, you know? I was his only friend for so long until you came along,” Zayn is surprised that his tone is anything but jealous. He sounds almost grateful. “He thinks you’re great, and it takes so much for him to talk to people, because he’s so used to people shutting him out, so he does the same. I just,” he sighs and runs his fingers through his dyed hair. “I just don’t want him to be let down, yeah? He only has you and me, and if you stop being his friend, it’ll crush him. He—”

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Zayn interrupts, shaking his head. “What makes you think I’m just going to… drop him as a friend? I don’t know what you know about me, Niall, but I wouldn’t do that.”

 

Niall’s pale cheeks turn pink as Zayn stares at him. He lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, hey, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m _saying_ that Harry is a good person and I’m just surprised he’s taken a liking to you so quickly. I just wanted to make sure you’re going to stick around.” His tone isn’t even threatening, it’s just a bit sad and exhausted.

 

“I plan on it,” Zayn says firmly. This conversation is bothering him and he wants it to end. “I have to, um, go. Like, got homework to do.” He mutters as he looks at his feet before securing his bag on his back.

 

“Right, yeah,” Niall nods, distracted. “I’ll see you later.”

 

As they both leave opposite ways, a thought springs up in Zayn’s head. He finds himself stopping and turning back to Niall. “Uh, hey, Niall?” he calls.

 

Niall stops and turns around. “Yeah?”

 

“Do you, like. Um, do you know why Harry didn’t come to the park last night?” He cringes at his question and regrets asking it. Niall’s not Harry’s _nanny._ Zayn assumes Harry has at least told him about them meeting up at the park every night, though.

 

Niall’s eyebrows furrow. “He wasn’t?”

 

“Uh, no.”

 

Niall pauses, and all of a sudden he looks awkward; rubbing at the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at Zayn. “I dunno, Zayn. Nothing to worry about, though.” He gives Zayn a smile as he starts to walk backwards. “Bye, Zayn!”

 

His answer doesn’t make Zayn feel any better.

 

~

 

When Zayn gets to the park that night Harry isn’t there.

 

Zayn immediately pulls out a fag and lights it, breathing it in deeply.

 

“You should really quit smoking. Nasty habit.”

 

Zayn looks up to see Harry standing next to him, with his sleeve covered hands on his hips.

 

“Harry. Hey,” he says lamely. Harry takes a seat next to him. Zayn scans over him, as if Harry had grown a second nose during the twenty-four hours he hasn’t seen him. He looks the same; same boots, same jeans, different sweater but same beanie. Something about him looks slightly different, though. “Why didn’t you come last night?”

 

Harry blinks. “I was feeling ill.” He says it so monotonously, like he’s a robot programmed to say it.

 

Zayn inspects Harry’s face again. Really inspects it. He sees the normal freckles on his jaw and neck, and he sees the spots on his forehead, he sees the beginnings of a dimple, if Harry would actually smile. He sees— oh. He has subtle dark circles under his eyes. So subtle that Zayn is surprised he noticed it in the dim light the street lights and bathroom gives off. “Harry, you’ve got circles under your eyes. Was it hard to sleep when you weren’t feeling well?” Zayn asks.

 

Harry gives him a smile, but it looks tired and strained. “Yeah, Zayn. Really wiped me out.”

 

Zayn feels bad. Harry shouldn’t be out here with him, he should be in bed sleeping. “Harry, maybe you should be at home getting some rest. You look pretty tired and I don’t think—”

 

“You want to hear a joke?” Harry asks. He sounds distant, like he’s miles away but still trying to be involved.

 

“Harry—”

 

“Why did Sally fall off the swing?”

 

“Ha—”

 

“Because she didn’t have any arms.” His laugh is dry and sounds like it’s not coming from his body. Zayn doesn’t know whether to feel sad or disturbed. He looks at Harry’s profile and notices how spacey his eyes look.

 

“Harry, are you all right?” He asks hesitantly.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Right as rain.” He leans into Zayn’s ear. “But guess what?” he whispers. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I took some of my mum’s pills before I left. She didn’t even notice.” His hot breath burns Zayn’s ear as he laughs darkly into it. Zayn leans back.

 

“What kind of pills, Harry?” Pills. Pills could be anything.

 

“Ummm. Dunno. Somethin’ with an ‘O’. Oxy-something, maybe. Or maybe it was something else. ‘M not sure. She likes to take them when she’s feeling sad and runs out of Jack.”

 

“Harry, how many did you take?” Zayn tries to stay calm. He doesn’t need to be taking Harry to the hospital because he’s OD’d.

 

“Hmm. Three. Or four. But I took the last ones.” Okay, Zayn’s almost positive he won’t overdose from three or four. “She’s gonna be soooo mad,” Harry whispers drowsily, words slurred.

 

Before Zayn knows it, Harry’s head has fallen on his lap, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Zayn’s immediate thought was that he dropped dead right then and there, and Zayn felt sick for a split second. He relaxes and exhales when he hears Harry’s quiet snores.

 

He doesn’t expect Harry to wake up anytime soon, so he just lets him sleep on his thighs while Zayn looks up at the stars.

  
  
  


The sky is glowing with pink and orange when Zayn wakes up.

 

His neck is stiff when he looks down at Harry who is still sleeping on his lap like dead weight. Did they really sleep out here all night?

 

“Harry,” he whispers. He pokes his cheek. Then he pokes him harder. “Harry.”

 

Harry groans.

 

“Harry, c’mon. You gotta wake up.”

 

“I don’t wanna wake up,” Harry mumbles.

 

“The sun is rising, Harry. We gotta get home. We have school.”

 

Harry sighs and opens his eyes slowly. He looks up at Zayn. “Hi.”

 

Zayn exhales deeply. “Why’d you take your mum’s pills, Harry?”

 

Harry looks up at the sky and really thinks about it. He almost looks confused when he answers. “Dunno.”

 

Harry’s beanie fell off while he was sleeping, and Zayn sees something on Harry’s ear. “Harry,” he says cautiously, moving Harry’s hair behind his ear so he can look at it. There’s a red cut on the side. “Harry, why is there a cut on your ear?”

 

Harry’s eyes widen and he grabs for his beanie, pulling it over his hair and ears stubbornly. “I was, y’know, giving myself a haircut, and like, I, um, cut it?” He knows Harry’s not being honest.

 

“Right.”

 

Harry sits up and pats Zayn on the shoulder. “I should go home and get ready for school. See you later, Z.” And just like that, he’s gone.

 

~

 

It’s Friday and Zayn declines Louis and Liam’s invite to come over and watch a movie. He says he’s not feeling well and ends up in his room, doing nothing but drawing his pictures of his ceiling and green eyes.

 

~

 

Harry doesn’t show up that night.

 

~

 

_PLS come to Josh’s party, Z. It’s guna be sick i swear_

 

Zayn sighs as he reads Louis’ text.

 

_sry lou, im not feeling up to it._

 

Louis’ response is immediate.

 

_:((((((( loser._

 

Zayn laughs at his response and falls back asleep.

 

~

 

Harry doesn’t show up that night, either.

 

Or the night after that.

 

~

 

“Zayn, you’ve been acting weird all day. What’s up your ass?” Louis’ never been one for subtlety.

 

“Nothing.” He doesn’t have a lunch today so there’s nothing to distract him with as Louis stares at him with narrowed eyes.

 

“I bet it’s that Styles kid. Is he the reason you haven’t been hanging out with us? Too busy letting him suck you off?”

 

Liam winces.

 

“No.”

 

“But you’re hanging out with him, yeah?”

 

“Yeah. So what?” Zayn’s cheeks are starting to burn with anger.

 

“Nothing, nothing. Just wanted to know what I should get you for a wedding gift,” Louis says with a smirk.

 

“Fuck off.” Zayn rubs his face. “New topic. How was Josh’s party?”

 

Liam’s face turns beet red and Louis chokes on the Coke he was drinking. Okay.

 

“It was good,” Louis says, clearing his throat. “You know, same ol’, same ol’.”

 

“So I didn’t really miss much?”

 

“Nah,” Louis says, but he’s looking down at the table with a smirk on his lips. “Not much.”

 

“Liam, are you okay? I’ve never seen you so red,” Zayn says.

 

Louis wraps his arm around Liam’s shoulders. Liam freezes. “Liam’s fine, aren’t you, Li?”

 

“Yeah,” Liam says distantly. “I really have to use the bathroom.” Liam stands abruptly.

 

“I’ll come with you, Li,” Louis says. Before Zayn can even say anything, Liam’s already walking to the bathroom at a fast pace with Louis following quickly behind him.

 

_Alright._

Zayn’s thoughts drift back to Harry. They’re always drifting back to Harry. Why the hell didn’t he come to the park all weekend? He makes himself think that Harry has just been going to sleep earlier.

 

Yeah, that’s definitely it.

 

~

 

Zayn has just said good night to the girls, closing their door, when he hears a light knock on the front door. His first thought of who it could be is someone from the government coming to foreclose their house. His parents are already asleep so he takes a deep breath before opening the door.

 

He’s met with a tall, curly haired boy with empty green eyes.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hey.” He immediately wants to avert his gaze. The circles under Harry’s eyes seem more prominent under the porch lights since the last time Zayn has seen him. “Harry?” he says quietly. He gently pulls Harry by the arm and guides him in the house and over to his lumpy couch. “Harry are you—”

 

“Robert’s gone.”

 

Zayn’s hands get clammy and an anchor drops in his stomach. Everything around him goes eerily silent. “Harry, I—”

 

“You know,” he starts, barely above a whisper. “She was very upset that I took her pills.”

 

Zayn feels sick.

 

“And when I got home from school, I went upstairs to feed Rob his afternoon meal. He was so excited about his meal today. He wasn’t in his cage.” His voice is starting to tremble slightly. Zayn wants to tell him to stop. “I ran downstairs and asked my mum where Rob was, and she just looked at me. She even smiled. And she said, ‘Don’t take my pills again.’” Harry’s lower lip wobbles.

 

Zayn’s feels a knot collect in his throat as he tries to swallow. Harry’s not looking at him anymore, he’s staring blankly at a hole in Zayn’s wall.

 

“She said,” he continues. “She said she let him out in the front yard, and she didn’t even try and help him when she watched a car run him over.” He’s crying now, and Zayn thinks it’s the worst thing he’s ever seen in his life.

 

“Harry—”

 

“She didn’t even sound _sorry,”_ he says. “She said ‘it’s about time that filthy animal was out of this house anyway.” Harry wipes his eyes with his sweater sleeve but the tears keep streaming. “But why would she be sorry? He wasn’t important to her. He was just some stupid pet she didn’t want there anyway and—”

 

“Harry, please stop. Let’s go in my room, yeah? Let’s just sleep and we can talk about it in the morning when you’ve slept a bit. Okay? Please, Harry.”

 

Harry’s not listening, though. He keeps repeating, “He’s gone, Zayn. He’s gone, he’s gone.” He has his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. Zayn rubs his shoulder and helps him stand, leading him to his bed where he helps him get on a pair of Zayn’s sweatpants and get under the covers. Harry wraps himself around Zayn and lays his head in the crook of his neck. His sobs have calmed down, but Zayn can still feel warm tears hit his collarbone. He holds onto Harry and combs his thin fingers through his tangled hair.

 

Harry’s breathing has slowed down and become less ragged. Zayn thinks he’s fallen asleep until he hears a quiet and watery, “I love you, Zayn.”

 

Harry’s never said that to him before. He finds himself smiling into Harry’s hair as he pats it comfortingly. “Love you, too, Harry.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey there, i hope you kind of enjoyed this so far. if you liked it pls don't hesitate to leave a comment bc that would make me happy :))))) KISSES AND ANSWERS AND STUFF ARE IN THE NEXT PART IM SORRY


End file.
